The Other Partner
by elderwood
Summary: Little Ginny Weasley asked Harry Potter to the dance! **Part of the "Dances with Dunces" story set. See author profile for recommended reading order.** Featuring a bit of R/Hr.
1. Ginny

__Note: This story is part of the _Dances with Dunces_ story set, though it may be enjoyed separately. Visit_ my profile page for recommended reading order.___  
><em>The asterisk (*) marks something that refers to a detail from another story in the set.<em>__

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><p><strong>THE OTHER PARTNER<br>**

The Gryffindor common room fireplace automatically extinguished as Ginny, the last to bed, left to go up to her dormitory. The air was silent; all she could hear were faint sobs and teary hiccups echoing in the stairwell. For a second, she looked towards the top of the flight for the source of the sound, but quickly realized that the sounds were her own. Startled that what she sounded like and what she felt could be so different, she paused briefly. The truth was, she was happy, she was excited, and she was nervous. All these emotions seemed to be jostling each other to come out as the strongest, so who could blame her for bursting into tears just before? After all, not ten minutes ago did Harry Potter say he'd go to the dance with her!*

Shaking from nerves or the cold - she didn't know - Ginny quietly climbed between her sheets and lay flat on her back, staring up at the darkness above her. She felt the irritating tickle of a tear escape her right eye and drip into her ear. Turning to her side, she could vaguely make out in the moonlight, her friend, Natalie. In the cloak of night and the solitude of wakefulness, Ginny allowed herself a broad smile, another course of excitement tensing her shoulders.

A few days ago, she and Natalie had been debating whom they'd go to the dance with if they asked, and whom they themselves might invite. Natalie had nagged her endlessly to try ask Harry, as everyone knew she liked him and, well, everyone also knew she was at least a little close to him, being his best friend's sister. No one seemed to understand that maybe she was might be a little _too_ close to him to stand a chance. There were a lot of complications, some of the more daunting ones came in the forms of her older brothers, especially Ron and the twins. She could just imagine the kind of embarrassment they would put her through; they would never let her forget that little Ginny Weasley actually asked Harry Potter out.

But now, she smiled. Despite her own doubts, he had said yes! Ginny fought the urge to shake Natalie awake and tell her the news, but as it was late and all the tension had drained her energy, she figured it better be left until the morning.

The sun rose sooner than Ginny had expected, and she was awake as soon as its rays started to lazily filter through the windows. "Natalie!" she shrieked excitedly, slipping out of bed. Her friend grunted a reply but kept her eyes closed. "You'll never guess what happened last night!"

Natalie mumbled sleepily, "You finally asked Harry Potter to the dance and he said yes."

Ginny frowned. How had she known? Suddenly, she was afraid she hadn't been as alone with Harry as she had thought the other night. She opened her mouth to ask, but her friend's eyes flew open. "Oh my God! You _did_?" Natalie bounced up in bed, her sleepy eyes suddenly wide with excitement. Apparently Ginny's silence was enough confirmation for her. "And he _did_?"

All Ginny could do was grin. Then both girls squealed and hugged.

Before breakfast in the Great Hall, Ginny dreaded seeing Harry there, for fear of the kind of awkwardness she was sure would follow. She avoided looking in his direction as she took her place at the Gryffindor table, but without thinking, glanced around the room and caught his eye. Before she could quickly withdraw her gaze and return it to her breakfast, he smiled warmly at her. Surprisingly, she felt at ease. It was an ease she had never felt in Harry's presence before, apart from the very first time they had met between Platforms 9 and 10, when she hadn't known who he was. She had felt drawn to him, even wished him good luck on his way to Platform 9 3/4, but his later-known celebrity somehow made her nervous.

Now, he was smiling at her, and there wasn't a twinge of embarrassment in her body. It was like they were sharing a secret that connected them. She smiled back and casually turned back to her plate, feeling more excited than she had been when he had initially accepted her invitation to the dance.

The day quickly rolled around and Ginny tapped her foot restlessly as she waited for Hermione to help her with her hair as she'd promised. Once Hermione arrived, Ginny immediately began discussing exactly the kind of look she was hoping for. She described large, separate curls, hoping they wouldn't fall too short since her hair wasn't very long. Hermione began her work. Ginny was highly appreciative of the help, especially since her friend appeared a tad weary after taking her OWLs just before. She didn't seem very excited about attending the dance, and would only mumble and change the subject when Ginny asked her about meeting Ron or something similar.

The time came for the girls to meet their dates in the common room. Ginny was bursting with excitement and barely contained it when Harry offered his arm and whispered her a compliment. She wanted to tell him he looked gorgeous in black and green, but decided against it. 'Gorgeous' wasn't a word she wanted to share with him, and there wasn't another she could think of. So far, the night was starting off superbly. That is, however, until Hermione devastated them, most of all Ron, by going to the dance with Neville!*

She felt desperately sorry for her brother, miserable at their table in the Great Hall (which had been turned into a ballroom), but knew she couldn't do anything to make him feel any better. "I'm worried about him," she told Harry, "when he's upset about something, he's usually angry, not sad."

"Maybe I should talk to him," Harry suggested, looking at Ron's depressed features sipping absent-mindedly from his goblet. Ginny nodded, but as they turned to him, Ron got up and made to leave.

"Ron, where are you going?" Ginny called after him. He answered with a half-hearted shrug. Harry tried coaxing him to attempt to enjoy the celebrations, but to no avail. They finally let him leave for some time to himself. Ginny sighed after him.

She and Harry sat quietly for a few moments, when Ginny finally bit the bullet. "So, do you want to dance?"


	2. Harry

_And now we switch over to Harry's point of view..._

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><p>Harry gave her an apologetic half-smile. "I don't really dance." Seeing her face fall a little, Harry changed the subject and started some small talk. It slowly turned into an engaging conversation about Hogwarts classes and teachers, reminiscing about family antics, and other things that can't really be placed in a category. Previously, he had been uncomfortable with the thought of having to take Ginny to the dance because he hadn't really talked to her at all and was afraid that their time would be extremely awkward. Now, he quickly scolded himself for having been the slightest bit concerned, because getting to know Ginny and more about the Weasleys made him feel even closer to his favorite wizarding family.<p>

Watching Ginny's eyes light up with laughter as he recalled teasing Dudley with fake incantations was positively delightful. She didn't humor him like others did. Students like Colin Creevey were irritating when they laughed at his most pathetic jokes and believed everything he did was cool or exceptional. Ginny really thought he was funny and was genuinely interested in things he had to say. He knew she was fast becoming one of his most valuable friends.

He suddenly felt thirsty, and during a rare break in their conversation (Dean had interrupted them earlier with his concern at seeing Ron alone on the stairs*), Harry offered Ginny, "Do you want something to drink?"

She nodded. "Please."

"Water, juice, punch or some of Snape's Shrinking Draught?" he asked, referencing the latest of her assignments in Potions.

"As long as it's sweet," Ginny laughed.

Harry edged his way along the wall to the front of the hall where the drinks were being served. As he joined the rather long queue, he heard Hermione's voice behind him. "The point is, why do _I _have to be the one making the first move all the time?" A quick glance showed him that she was talking to Neville as they both sipped from their goblets. "I mean," he heard her continue, "how hard was it for him to ask me?"

Harry wanted to talk to her about Ron, but then, he didn't know their whole story. He turned around, hoping to grab her attention while still retaining his spot in the queue, but as he did, he staggered back a little in surprise. Cho had been standing right behind him. She gave him a smile which he managed to return, though his was much weaker. "Hi," he stammered.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked loudly.

"I said 'Hi'!" Harry repeated, above the din this time.

"Oh, hi," Cho responded.

"Are you having a good time?" Harry asked, hoping to engage her in a conversation much more interesting than the stutter he usually displayed around her.

"I suppose. You?"

"Yeah."

Then the stream of speech ended there. Cho pointed towards the start of the queue to indicate that he should move up to close the gap that had formed in front of him. As he did, he gathered up as much courage as he could muster and asked, "Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?" Cho looked at him in a way that exasperated him. It was like she expected him to know the answer after being turned down by her enough times.

"I'm not asking to be your partner the rest of the night. Just for one song."

As Cho regarded him, a slow song came over the hall, dimming Harry's hopes. If it was slow, she was less likely to agree to dance with him. But he was wrong.

She smiled and nodded. Harry couldn't believe it. Cho was leading him by the hand into the crowd of dancers, to a slow song no less! Once they found a spot, Cho placed her hands on his shoulders and he gingerly put his arms around her waist. He was feeling a little apprehensive since this was really his first slow dance, but quickly learned to follow her movements. Harry relaxed a little and allowed himself to close his eyes as Cho rested her head on his shoulder.

The song seemed to go on forever. Harry was grateful for it, though he started to become anxious about when it would end, because that would mean they'd have to stop. As the song finally reached its last chorus, Harry heard a painful gasp. He opened his eyes to see Neville and Hermione dancing, or at least, attempting to.

"Sorry!" Neville said sheepishly. Once again, he had stood on Hermione's toe.

"Never mind," Hermione sighed, dropping her arms from his shoulders. She didn't look much in the mood for dancing anyway. "I'm sorry, Neville, but I don't think I'm up for much more at the moment." Neville nodded, looking downcast. "Besides, it's better I let you dance with someone you _really _want to dance with," she added with a smile.

"Is it that obvious?" Neville asked, pink-cheeked and glancing towards a girl whom Harry had seen Ginny hanging around with regularly.

Hermione smiled, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she began to push her way through the crowd. "Are you going to look for Ron?" Neville asked, though it was more of a statement with a sense of understanding.

The mention of his name seemed to upset her, and she failed to hide it successfully. "No, I'm just going to the bathroom." Neville didn't follow her and now, feeling strange amongst a sea of couples, quickly glanced around and made his way to the side.

The slow song was replaced by a loud one with a heavy beat and Cho lifted her head off Harry's shoulder. "Thanks. That was, erm... nice," she told him. Harry opened his mouth to say something, he didn't really know what, but one of Cho's friend's arrived. He recognized her as a Hufflepuff. She looked him up and down, like it was unusual for Cho to be dancing with him and pulled her friend away to whisper in her ear. They both looked over the crowd into one corner, presumably for whomever they were whispering about, and giggled. Then the Hufflepuff started to head off in that direction, summoning Cho to join her with enthusiastic flappings of her hand. Cho spun around to face Harry again. She shrugged apologetically as she back-stepped towards the Hufflepuff girl. "Well, I'll see you around or something?" Harry could only smile and nod. And then, she was gone.

Harry's face fell. His first slow dance hadn't been nearly as meaningful as he had hoped. He'd shared it with the girl he had wanted to, but she had come across as careless and brief towards him, as if she pitied the little boy a year under her for having such a crush on him. Utterly disappointed and hurt, Harry pushed his way through the dense crowd, not really aware of the direction he was taking. He had reached the drinks queue again when he suddenly remembered. "Ginny!"

Rushing to the front of the queue and snatching a couple of random goblets from the table despite several students' protests and Professor Flitwick's, who was serving, Harry cursed himself for neglecting her. It had taken her a lot of courage to ask him to the dance in the first place, and after having had a wonderful conversation with her, he had been the biggest tosser to simply forget all that and dance with someone else.

At last, he reached their table, but she was gone. Scanning the crowd desperately and feeling immensely guilty, Harry wandered up and down the edge of the dance floor. Towards the back of the hall, near the entrance, he saw a shock of red hair and made a start towards it before realizing it was just Ron. Harry looked closer, wondering if Ron had finally decided to join in after feeling sorry for himself all night, and was pleased to see that he was with Hermione... and they were holding hands.

They chose to sit down on one of the benches along the wall instead of dance. As they sat, Harry noticed one of Ron's hands had circled Hermione's waist, coming to a rest on her hip, while the other was busily entwined in one of hers. Their gazes were only interrupted when they spoke in each other's ears if the music was momentarily too loud. Then Harry saw their eyes connect with a near palpable intensity, and Ron casually leaned in to kiss her. This surprised Harry, as well as some other onlookers, he saw.

_I guess Ron's learned to make the first move, then,_ thought Harry. But what intrigued him most about his friends' private moment was the fact that after they'd kissed, Ron and Hermione continued their conversation almost as if it hadn't happened. Immediately, Harry understood what he himself had suggested to Ron about a moment that felt so natural it seemed like nothing.*

Harry felt a pang of longing. He wanted to feel like they looked at that very moment; completely cozy in each other's presence, as if there was no one else in the enormous hall. Had he felt that way when he was dancing with Cho? He didn't think so. Had his hour talking to Ginny made him feel as comfortable? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he owed Ginny his full attention that night and he hadn't given her that.

A short distance away, Harry spied Natalie. She was with Neville who was smiling, as she taught him how to step side to side, while a Ravenclaw boy, presumably Natalie's date, watched them sullenly. Harry made his way towards them after putting the goblets down somewhere, and was taken aback when she regarded him so coldly. He was so used to seeing her as part of the young admirers who stared at him in the halls between classes. "Have either of you seen Ginny?" he asked.

"She's gone back to the dormitory, if you really care," she said curtly.

"What? Why?" Harry asked, deciding not to care why she was particularly hostile towards him.

Natalie started to open her mouth, and Harry knew what was coming was going to be a lot of angry words. Neville cut in. "She saw you dancing with Cho and ran off," he told Harry regrettably.

"And you told her you don't dance!" Natalie added.

"Oh, no," Harry groaned. The dance Ginny had interpreted correctly at first was now completely wrong. While he _did_ have some feelings for Cho, he knew now she didn't reciprocate them at all. Pursuing her a fourth time was once too many times Harry wanted to try. He rushed towards the doors.

"Harry!" Harry spun around to see Ron jogging up to him with a grin on his face. "Guess what!"

Harry knew what he was going to say. "I know, mate. That's terrific, but right now, I have to find Ginny."

"She ran right into me a minute ago. It looked like she was heading for Gryffindor Tower. She looked upset about something but she wouldn't say what."

Harry sighed. "Thanks. I'll see you later tonight, then we'll talk, okay?" he flashed a quick smile and glanced briefly at Hermione in the near distance, talking animatedly to Parvati and her date. Then he dashed off to Gryffindor Tower.

His heart thumping double time as he ran, Harry wondered why he was so anxious. Was it because hurting Ginny could destroy his relationship with Ron and the other Weasleys? Or because she just didn't deserve to be hurt? He guessed it was both. The Weasleys were too important to him to lose as friends and Ginny was too good to him, too good _for _him. He felt like such a cad but couldn't undo things now. He'd just have to explain and apologize profusely, hoping she would find it in her heart somewhere to at least bring things back to square one between them.

Huffing, he reached the Fat Lady, barely managing the password, 'Ex Animo'. He stepped inside, fearing that she had gone upstairs. If she had, she would be out of reach until the following morning, and speaking to her privately then would be next to impossible. He couldn't see anyone in the common room. "Ginny?" he called, looking expectantly at the armchairs which could be hiding her. "Ginny, are you down here?"

"What is it?" came her trembling voice from the same chair she sat in when she had asked him to the dance.

"Ginny," Harry gingerly took a seat on the sofa and saw that her cheeks were glistening. She sniffled.

"I don't want to talk to you," she told him, trying to control her tears.

"Ginny," Harry pleaded.

Finally, she raised her eyes to look at him, and he could see they were bright with a fierceness beneath her pain. "You lied to me. You said you didn't dance, but you just didn't want to dance with _me_! I don't understand why you said you'd go with me in the first place."

"Ginny," Harry scolded himself for only being able to say her name and not offer any other words. There was a pause as Harry shook his head without an excuse to save himself. When he looked at her again, his insides ached at the sight of her anguish.

"Just tell me, Harry," she whispered, desperately suppressing her sobs, "would you ever have asked me to go to the dance with you?"

Harry blinked, then lowered his eyes. The truth was that he hadn't consider asking her before, and now that they had spent at least a little time together, he wasn't sure. Would he, really? There just wasn't enough time for him to sort out his feelings, and so much seemed to have happened to change them. Hanging around her, dancing with Cho, being tossed aside by Cho... He felt horrible. He had no idea how to answer, but knew his silence was going to be read as a definite no, and that wasn't completely accurate.

He dared to meet her eyes again and saw that her eyes were now clouded by a rim of tears. They broke as she blinked, spilling down her already tear-stained face. Unable to bear it any longer, Ginny quickly made her escape, clattering up the stone steps to the privacy of her dormitory room. Harry didn't move until her steps and sobs echoing in the stairwell faded. Then, he sadly traced a wet tear spot on the arm of the chair she had been sitting in, and his eye caught an area of sofa fabric directly under his nose. He was surprised to see a new stain spreading there and realized that he too, had started crying.


	3. Easter

Harry lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was the Easter break, and he was alone in the dormitory. Though most students opted to stay at Hogwarts since the break was only a week long, the other fifth year Gryffindor boys in his room had made plans this year. Both Seamus and Dean had gone to Ireland to catch the start of the Quidditch season, and Neville was spending most of his days walking the grounds with Natalie. Ron was back at The Burrow, and had invited Hermione and him, but Ginny was going to be there, and he thought better of going, despite Ron and Hermione's many dismissals of any possible awkwardness.

Actually, Harry had been surprised at how Ron took the news that he had driven Ginny to tears that night. Initially, he had frowned and looked concerned over his sister, but had said wisely, "She's had a crush on you for yonks, Ginny has. And it's not your fault you don't like her. It's probably better that she knows now, rather than letting it carry on for another five years. I mean, it was bloody good of you to go with her in the first place… but mate, I don't fancy being you right now. She doesn't forgive very easily, Ginny." When Harry didn't look any less upset over the whole ugly thing, Ron added, clasping Harry's shoulder reassuringly, "She's strong, though. Don't think she won't bounce back. I know you're The Famous Harry Potter and everything, but she'll come good in time." Harry had nodded glumly and made some excuse to be left alone.

Fortunately, Ron and Hermione had been very sensitive towards him since the dance. Ordinarily, he would have resented being treated so cautiously, but for some reason, he really felt that when he tried to go back to "normal", there was a certain emptiness and falseness in everything he did. So, Harry was extremely grateful that Ron and Hermione seemed to understand that things were different, and that he needed time to himself.

Though since the dance they were officially a couple, Ron and Hermione had refrained from any kind of behavior that they thought might make Harry feel uncomfortable. They subtly stopped holding hands when he entered the room, or adjusted their positions on the couch so that their knees were no longer touching. He felt a twinge of guilt at how accommodating they were to his moods, when he gave them absolutely no hint of acknowledgement. Often, he thought they were talking about him; he'd caught them looking worriedly at him from across the room when they thought he wasn't paying attention. He wished they would trust him to be able to deal with problems himself, but at the same time, he was glad to have friends who cared so much.

A couple of weeks had passed since the dance, and Harry had attempted several times to talk to Ginny. At first, she seemed to surround herself with friends who glared at him coldly, while she merely ignored him. After a week of this, Ginny started to make eye contact… with daggers. Harry had watched helplessly as she went from being heart-broken to haughty. When he realized she wasn't ready to talk to him, he had started writing letters.

After the first few, spouting apologies, he got a response. One night, as he was in the middle of an essay for Transfiguration, she walked up behind him and dropped a bundle of the letters on his parchment, smearing the ink. Harry hadn't cared about the homework; he was glad to see that some of the letters had been opened. If she'd just read one, she would have an idea of how sorry he was. Though she'd walked away without a word, Harry had felt encouraged. He continued to write, sure that she would soon be willing to talk. But that changed the day she left with Ron and Hermione for The Burrow.

That night, as he had stoked the fire, he found a half-burnt piece of parchment in the corner of the fireplace. He recognised his writing. A closer look at the ashes nearby showed a bundle of delicate curls of blackened parchment, indelibly marked with burnt ink in his handwriting. He was crushed. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before.

Cho turning him down numerous times had disappointed and frustrated him each time, but this was absolute devastation compared to that. It was probably even worse than when he learned that his plans of living with Sirius were not going to be realized. It felt like a clamp in his chest, squeezing his heart so that he couldn't breathe, and that tears were forced to form in his eyes. He was so desperately and genuinely sorry, and he'd been trying so hard to convince her of it. He didn't know what else he could do, and then, just as he thought there was a sliver of hope, she crushed it, and it crumbled to nothingness like the ash in the grate.

He'd gotten up, brushed the moisture from his eyes, and made his way to bed, though it was only eight o'clock. There, he drew the curtains around him and buried his head in a pillow, feeling it turn hot and wet with his tears. He hadn't known when he'd actually fallen asleep.

That was two days ago now, and he'd done a lot of thinking, mostly in bed as he stared at the ceiling like he was this morning. He'd thought of giving up on her, moving on, but the lack of closure would bother him always, not to mention the constant discomfort of her presence whenever he visited the Weasleys. He couldn't give up visits to The Burrow! But most of all, he realized, he couldn't stop wanting her to know how he felt because… well, because he _wanted_ her to know; he _needed_ her to know. It was vital to him, somehow. Even if she couldn't forgive him, if she could just agree that they be amiable enough to exist in the same room as each other, he might be satisfied. That, at least… but while they were talking, he'd have to try make her understand his regret, and that he really did love being with her.

Harry sat up. _He loved being with her…_ Yes, it was true. How had that escaped his notice for so long? It was the essential clue that made everything fall into place. His frustration, his angst, that feeling of emptiness… Though he was feeling guilty and wanted to set things right with her, he realized that most of all, he _missed_ her. He'd felt so at home in her presence at the dance, so relaxed and free to be himself. He wanted that back.

Determined, he dressed, hurriedly packed a few items in his rucksack, and marched out to see Dumbledore.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry turned, and saw Neville waving from an alcove. Harry greeted him as he approached, "Hey, Neville. How've you been? Haven't seen you in a while."

Neville grinned and shrugged, glancing over at Natalie, who was chatting with a small group of students in the alcove. "Well, you know…"

"Right."

"Hey, listen," Neville continued, "a bunch of us is heading down to Hogsmeade in a bit. Do you want to join us? We're meeting up with students from the other houses as well, and we're all going together." Sensing he wasn't convincing Harry, he added, "I heard Cho Chang is going too…"

Harry smiled at his friend's efforts. Funnily, the thought of seeing Cho or having an opportunity to talk to her again had no effect on him. Harry could barely remember the boy who had had such a crush on the Ravenclaw Seeker, and realized how much he had changed, while everyone else thought he was the same. "Thanks, Neville, but I have somewhere else I need to be."

"Oh. Well, if you change your mind, we won't be heading down for another hour."

"Thanks, mate."

Neville returned to the group, and Harry continued on to Dumbledore's office. He made his way past with "Pepper Imps" and ascended the steps. Dumbledore summoned him in after he knocked, and greeted him from behind his desk. "To what do I have the pleasure of your visit, Harry?" he asked, though Harry was sure he knew. There was something about Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and smile that made him feel like everything he said was already so obvious to the Headmaster.

"Sir, I was hoping that you would allow me to use your fireplace to go to The Burrow for the rest of the Easter break."

"You have already discussed this with Professor McGonagall? As Head of Gryffindor, she must be made aware of your plans, otherwise be distressed with worry at your absence." Harry had not thought of this. He hesitated, and Dumbledore smiled again. "Harry, I will permit you, as you seem quite determined to go, and I will inform Professor McGonagall. But first, I must ensure that you are expected by the Weasleys. It would be quite poorly of me to send you unannounced."

"Yes, sir. I have a letter here."

Harry rummaged through his bag, feeling for the parchment. He produced it and handed it to Dumbledore, who read it, mumbling, "_'Dear Harry, I'm sorry you are staying at Hogwarts over Easter. I hope that…_ Ah! _If you change your mind, please feel free to come at any time. Our home is always open to you. Love, Molly.' _Yes, that is quite satisfactory." Then turning to Harry, he added, "Without those words, it would be impossible for you to travel there by floo powder. Security measures, of course. Just as it is impossible to Apparate into any building; you would still have to ring the door bell." Harry nodded.

Dumbledore returned the letter and stood up. He walked over to the immense fireplace on the far side of the room, gesturing to Harry to follow. Harry joined him at the hearth. Wordlessly, Dumbledore waved his wand over the empty fireplace, making green flames erupt from the grey coals. He took what looked like a polished trophy from a nearby glass cabinet and held it out to Harry. Harry recognized the floo powder immediately and took a good pinch. He stepped into the flames and looked at Dumbledore.

"Good luck, Harry," Dumbledore said, "and my regards to the Weasleys."

"Yes, and thank you, Professor." Harry threw the powder to his feet and felt the flutter of green flames as they climbed higher around him. "The Burrow!" he bellowed clearly. Then he was spinning, and lights flashed and streaked around him as he turned. There were fireplaces passing him by and he wondered how long it would take before he was there. And he began to wonder other things.

What would Ginny think? Would she turn hostile, or be surprised and - dare he wish? - impressed that he'd be so bold to insist that they straighten things out? What was he going to say to her? He didn't even know. He wondered if the rest of her family knew that he'd hurt her. Anxiety crept up from his chest to his throat. Was he doing the right thing? He started to feel ill.

Suddenly, everything stopped moving and he stumbled forward. Ash clouded his vision, scratching at his eyes, and he fell to his hands and knees, spluttering. Though temporarily blinded, his eyes watering, Harry knew where he was. He'd been hit with a tide of familiar smells; home cooking, the slight mustiness of the old carpet Mr Weasley refused to throw out, and the heady perfume of those small, pretty flowers that filled every window box.

He had arrived at The Burrow.

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><p><em>I love making Harry suffer. It suits him so well. I still don't know where this is going, but I'd love some feedback!<em>


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